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Words feed themselves
VASSALLO
ALFRED
POET
APPARENTLY
I'll hear a voice in the confusion of my mind
It cries;
A voice from the mysterious path pressed upon the synapses;
It screams,
It calls loudly for my life to change.
This life which will continue to be undignified,
The towering thoughts of grief brought me high tension
Leading straight to all the questions and answers,
Where I may have to reciprocate ashamedly!
The past of bad tidings,
Rises ruefully to the pinnacles of guilt;
And accuses!
Like the flowers that bloom;
They perish,
The actions I take;
Decay,
As my life will pass like a faded dream.
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